


Identify

by thecarlysutra



Series: Lakota Calendar [8]
Category: Thunderheart (1992)
Genre: Buffalo, Feeling connected to one's heritage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-25
Updated: 2011-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 22:44:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecarlysutra/pseuds/thecarlysutra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Ptehincala Sapi Wi</i>—When Calves Are Red.  Another installment in the <i>Lakota Calendar</i> series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Identify

  
The Sioux had their own calendar, and Ray learned the name for most of April and early May, _Ptehincala Sapi Wi_ —When Calves Are Red, after investigating a break-in at John Black Horn’s ranch. He and Crow Horse investigated the damage done to the rancher’s home; Ray collected evidence and snapped photos until Crow Horse found some antler velvet scraped onto one of the walls. Mr. Black Horn apologized to Ray and Crow Horse for wasting their time. Crow Horse laughed, and clapped him on the back.

“I’m only sorry we can’t hunt the sorry sumbitch down for you, John,” Crow Horse said, “but damned if all those elk don’t look alike to me.”

“Hard to get the cuffs on them, too,” Ray said.

Mr. Black Horn laughed. “Eyah, I’ll bet. You boys want a beer while you’re here? You drove all the way out.”

“Nah, we’re on duty,” Crow Horse said. “Take a soda, though.”

While Mr. Black Horn was pawing through the icebox, Ray peered out the kitchen window. Crow Horse bumped shoulders with him.

“What’re you lookin’ at?”

“For, not at.,” Ray said. “I wanted to see the cows.”

Mr. Black Horn pressed a frosty bottle into Ray’s hand. “What cows?”

Ray frowned. “I thought this was a ranch.”

Mr. Black Horn laughed. “Sure, _kola_ , but not a cattle ranch. Come on, city boy. I’ll show you the herd.”

Ray had never seen a buffalo outside picture books. They were bigger than he’d thought, broader, like furry tanks. He found himself mesmerized by their movements, by their sheer size.

Crow Horse and Mr. Black Horn stood at the fence, watching the herd, talking, and laughing. Ray knelt at the fence to better see the little buffalo calves with their soft red baby fur and their large, expressive eyes.

“They ain’t gonna bite you,” Mr. Black Horn said, and Ray held his hand out through the fence, and one of the calves trotted up to investigate, pressing his velvet soft nose into Ray’s open palm.

On the ride back to the station, Ray folded his hand and worked the pads of his fingers over his palm, remembering the sensation of petting the little calf.

“Thanks,” Ray said. “I really liked seeing the buffalo.”

Crow Horse eyed him. “Don’t go gettin’ attached, now. We already got that damn dog; don’t need you carting home any more pets.”

Ray laughed, and leaned back in his seat. After a moment, his smile faded.

“I felt Indian today, Walter,” he said softly.

Crow Horse glanced over at him. The corners of his mouth turned in an expression Ray couldn’t quite identify.

“Yeah,” he said, and he rested his hand on Ray’s knee.  



End file.
